


Interludes

by In_Pieces



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Pieces/pseuds/In_Pieces
Summary: A melting pot of short stories that range from funny family interactions to angsty romance.Chapter 10: We could get struck by lightning, but you want to kiss in the rain (Vergil/Reader)
Relationships: Dante & Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero & Nico (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	1. You are a dork, just like your father

“Ya know what? You’re a dork, just like your daddy.”

Nero snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at Nico, but she was far too busy to notice his gaze. She kept rummaging through the contents of the cupholder, trying to fish a lone cigarette that she was certain was in there, somewhere. Her free hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, making the van slowly drift towards the opposite lane. 

“Can you keep your eyes on the road for one damn second?” He grabbed it for her, rolling his eyes when she snatched it out of his hand with a stupid grin plastered on her face. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I’m tired of you just staring at each other from across the room!” Nico exclaimed, and it took Nero a small moment to understand what she was saying since she had just placed that thing on her lips.

“I’m not gonna talk to him if he doesn’t wanna talk.”

“Yeah, and you know what he’s thinkin’? Nico barked, taking both her hands off the steering wheel for a hot second to light up her cig. Nero sighed as he reached for the wheel before they crashed into the side rail. “He’s thinkin’ you don’t wanna talk to him.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch.” She shrugged. “Call it girly intuition or somethin’.”

“… You heard something, didn’t you?”

“I mean, I didn’t mean to, ya know? But he’s not as slick as he thinks he is.”

“Alright, say I actually want to talk to him,” Nero started, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. Nico wasn’t exactly the first person who came to mind when he thought about those things, but since they were at it already... “What the hell do I even say?”

“I dunno. Ask him why he has a stick up his butt? I kinda want to know that too.”

“I don’t know why I asked.” Nero slumped back on his seat, propping his feet up on the dashboard as he stared out the window. Maybe Nico was right. Maybe Vergil did want to talk and just didn’t know how. That sounded…plausible. Accurate, even.

Guess he’d figure something out the next time he saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All these prompts were sent by some lovely people on Tumblr.
> 
> Hope you like 'em!
> 
> If you'd like to request something, feel free to [drop by!](https://wordborne.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open.


	2. No more dogs. How hard is it to understand?

Vergil had been quite surprised when Dante showed up one day with a stray puppy in his arms. He kept babbling about how he found him in a dark alley close to the shop and how he refused to let that poor creature out in the cold. There had been a storm that night, and the rain was pouring so hard that it almost sounded like hail.

Dante didn’t need to explain himself. The shop was _his_ home, and he was free to do as he pleased…as long as the responsibility didn’t fall on Vergil. He made that abundantly clear from the start.

Dante named the dog Shaggy, and, after they’d given him a bath and combed out all his matted hair, he’d turned out to be a cream and brown fellow who loved to steal Dante’s leftover pizza straight out of the box.

Then along came Molly, a friendly dog with salt and pepper hair who was missing an eye and loved to chew on their boots.

Dante stole Bruno from one the neighbors because they kept him chained outside with very little food and water available. He was a massive gray dog who always hogged the couch and whined every time someone tried to sit there.

Someone left Luna on their doorstep when they were asleep. She was a small but stocky white pup whose favorite activity was trailing behind Vergil until he rubbed her belly.

Their water bill had gone up exponentially from all the baths Vergil was giving the dogs, and, on top of it all, the cost of the countless bags of different types of dog food that they now needed to buy was really adding up. They could _not_ take in another dog. Vergil made that abundantly clear.

But, of course, Dante had refused to listen.

“Look what I found, Verge!” Dante announced proudly, almost beaming as he came through the door one morning reeking of demon guts and blood. He was cradling a small bundle of gray on his arms, and it didn’t take long for Vergil to notice the three distinctive heads of a Cerberus trying to take in the surroundings of his new home. “His name’s Mutty.”

“We said no more dogs, Dante. How hard is it to understand?’

“What did you want me to do? I got a call to get rid of his dad.” Dante explained as he gently placed the dog on top of the desk. “I couldn’t leave him there!”

That was one of Dante’s tactics to get on his good graces. Vergil knew it very well. He frowned as he stared at the demon, watching intently as he wobbled his way over to him before three tongues gently licked his nose and cheeks in greeting.

Vergil made it abundantly clear that they could _not_ take in another dog after Mutty.

He didn’t mention anything about cats, though.


	3. Quit it or I'll bite

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stared at the plethora of books that were strewn in front of you. Some were so frail and old that it seemed like they would crumble as soon as you touched them, and some others looked as if they’d never been touched at all. In the middle of the mess laid a couple of sheets of paper with your notes and doodles, one of your many vague attempts to keep track of all the information you’d come across.

Having Vergil around was both a blessing and a curse. You enjoyed his company, but you couldn’t stand the way he would frown as soon as he came across a particularly troubling piece that you had worked so hard on instead of, you know, explaining what was so wrong with it before giving you that look.

It was all your fault, really. You’d left your mess out in the library one day and, when you’d come back from the bathroom, the tall man in blue was there, shaking his head as he read ‘the atrocities you called research’.

You were rightfully upset and dared him to correct it, if he knew as much as he claimed he did.

And he delivered.

It took a little convincing, but you, somehow, managed to get him on board as a consultant for the handbook the National Museum of Demonic Artifacts planned to release to the public. It was meant to be a helpful little thing that listed the most common types of lesser demons in order to get people to stay the hell away from them instead of actively trying to approach them. As if that could work.

He let out a pensive hum as he read some of your notes, shaking his head slightly as he placed the sheet of paper beside him, far away the rest. You merely looked up from your book, paying little attention to it all.

Then he did it again. He let out that same disappointed hum as yet another page was placed in his little corner of ‘rejected ideas’.

He grabbed another one of your notes and, this time, he scoffed.

“Oh, quit it or I’ll bite.” You hissed, snatching the piece of paper from his hands and placing it neatly at the bottom of the pile. You were tired and mentally drained from it all. Last thing you needed was Vergil acting like an ass. You knew the information was correct- hell, he had been the one making sure it was-, so he was poking fun at the small scientific drawings you’d doodled under the info.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” The cheeky bastard didn't even bother to look up from the old tome he pretended to read, slim fingers casually turning the pages.

“You are kidding, right?” All traces of petty rage left your mind at that statement, and you realized that he’d won once you let that stupid smile play on your lips. “You’re insane if you think that this,” You motioned to the mess between you. “Is getting me in the mood.”

“It certainly seemed to work last time.”

“Last time was a mistake.”

“A mistake that you were eager to repeat, if I recall correctly.”

_Unbelievable._

“Absolutely not.” You grabbed all your notes and stuffed them all in a folder before they were carelessly tossed into an open drawer. You walked towards the door of your office in a huff, determined to leave him there all alone. Still, you paused as soon as your fingers grazed the doorknob, and decided to peer over your shoulder just to see his reaction. Vergil was staring at you with unmistakable curiosity and amusement, and the smile that you were working so hard to hide shamelessly appeared on your face. “I mean, unless you buy me dinner first. I’m a decent lady, you know?”

“Of course.”


	4. After everything…I’d still choose you

“Vergil, wait!”

How many years had passed? How many decades had passed since the last time you'd seen him? You dared to say that he looked the same, and, even if his face had matured and was dotted with the signs of age, his eyes were still as icy and electric as you remembered. The warmth that you had once discovered in them was long gone, replaced by a vague sense of disappointment that made your heart twist.

You were worried that he hadn’t heard you over the sound of the pouring rain, but he stopped just as he was about to reach the stairs. You dared to take a few steps forward, shivering when the cold wind brushed past your skin.

“I can explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

He was right. You didn’t need to explain why your engagement ring felt too cold and foreign now. Its familiar weight felt almost oppressive and, out of nervousness, you twisted it with your thumb, hating the way it felt on your skin.

“Please, just let me,” You tried, pausing to find the right words. You should’ve moved on years ago. Should’ve forgotten about the man in blue that had disappeared abruptly from your life. He'd said nothing. Left no note behind. It was as if he’d never been there. And, God, you could still remember how much it hurt, how much your heart had ached for him.

That ring on your finger was supposed to signal the start of a seemingly new life, a new opportunity arising from the ashes of your failed relationships because you had never been able to stop thinking about a certain silver-haired man.

And that statement remained true.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d pretended that your fiancé was him; how many times you'd hoped that you would, one day, wake up to see Vergil lying next to you. They’d all been pointless and cruel fantasies. You knew it very well. But it was so damn hard to stop trying to live another life. To stop feigning that everything was alright.

Your fiancé called out your name from the kitchen, and you felt a pang of distress swallow you whole. You shouldn’t be doing this. This was so damn wrong. He didn’t deserve this. But you were in too deep to stop now.

You took a couple of tentative steps towards Vergil and reached out to gently touch his face, worried that the illusion would break if you were too eager. But he was real, and he was there, letting you in just like he’d done all those years ago.

“I thought I’d lost you,” You said in almost a whisper, “I tried to forget you and move on but I couldn’t. And this?” You held up your left hand, the ring sparkling under the fluorescent lights. “This doesn’t matter.” It pained you to say it but, at the same time, it felt liberating. “You just have to say it. Say that I'm yours. I would trade this all for another chance because, after everything… I’d still choose you.”

Vergil’s remained mostly stoic, his brow furrowing slightly at your confession. Your heart skipped a beat when he placed his hand on top of yours, a small but intimate gesture that brought back a rush of emotion and memories that were quickly cut off as he gently led your hand away from his face.

“Don’t be so foolish.” He spoke, but his tone lacked the edge his words were meant to have.

He could feel it too, you knew that. He wouldn’t be there if he hadn’t.

You watched him disappear in the night, hidden by the dark and the rain as you went back inside, closing the door gently behind you. Your thumb still fidgeted with the ring on your finger and, after taking one look at the intrigued expression etched on your fiancé’s face, you took it off.


	5. Sharing is caring. Now give me your fries

Dante couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten at a restaurant.

Grabbing a bite to eat at a random gas station couldn’t beat the feeling of being cramped up in a booth with Nero by his side and his dear brother right in front them. He wasn’t a burger-type-of-guy, but hey, he was willing to bite the bullet if his favorite nephew felt like eating that junk. Last time he checked, Fortuna was still seriously lacking in the fast food department.

Dante had always been a fast eater and, to no one’s surprise, he managed to wolf down both his double burger and large fries in record time. Nero’s fries were the first ones to disappear from his tray, and he, unlike Dante, was taking his time eating his burger. He paid 12 bucks for that thing and, while it didn’t seem like a lot, he knew he could’ve gotten a decent amount of veggies with that money back in Fortuna. The thought made him grimace, but Kyrie had always said that he should treat himself every once in a while and, well, a burger didn’t sound so bad once you put it that way.

Dante’s eyes fell on Vergil’s mountain of fries as he fidgeted with a used napkin before he carelessly tossed it on the pile he’d managed to gather on his tray. His dear brother had refused to get a burger and, instead, settled for some deliciously crispy fries that were coated with melted cheese, burger sauce, and caramelized onions. It was almost comical to see Verge slowly eating them with that tiny plastic fork, careful not to let any sauce splatter on his face.

“You know what they say, Verge, sharing is caring,” Dante started, casually leaning forward. “Now gimme your fries.”

“If you want them, then you’ll have to take them.” Vergil pushed the tray further away from Dante, silently daring his brother to even try to get his slimy hands near his food.

“Really? You’re doing this right now?” Nero rolled his eyes, wishing that he had some fries left just so he could prevent another petty argument between the twins.

“What? I just want a couple of fries.”

“You already ate yours.”

“Yeah, but I got space for a lil more.” Dante reached out to grab one and his hand was smacked away before it even had the chance to get close to the tray.

Nero stood up abruptly, and Dante’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight. He knew the kid had a rough week, but he didn’t imagine he’d be that pissed at their mindless banter. Ten awfully long minutes passed with no sign of the kid, and he and Verge were starting to wonder where the hell Nero'd gone to when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere, carrying a red tray with more of those heavenly fries.

“There, now stop fighting and eat your damn food.”

“Aw, thanks kid!” Dante eagerly grabbed the fork Nero offered him and dug in, enjoying the savory taste of heaven in his mouth. “You’re the best nephew I ever had.”

Nero snorted. “You say that ‘cause I’m the only one, dumbass.”

“We don’t know that.”

All eyes fell on Vergil, who merely shook his head before he casually stole one of Dante’s fries and placed it on his now empty tray.

“Sharing is caring, is it not, brother?”


	6. High School AU

“Can you explain the speech acts again?”

“Pay attention.” Vergil wasn’t the most patient guy in the world, but he knew what he was getting into when he agreed to help you, albeit begrudgingly. You could feel the exasperation leaving his body in waves as he, once again, opened the document you were trying to decipher. 

After a pause, Vergil began to explain that damn theory again, going on about the locutionary, illocutionary and…whatever the other thing was. He wasn’t a bad tutor, really; he clearly explained what those things were and even walked you through a couple of examples so you could understand them better.

And you would… If only you weren’t too busy staring at him.

He was a handsome guy, if only a tad stuck up. Pale face, striking eyes, silver hair. The uniform did everyone a favor -come on, a black blazer with matching trousers and a white shirt looked good on everybody-, but, on him, it looked just divine. It made him look like a snobby trust fund kid, and that suited him just fine.

He noticed you were awfully silent, and frowned when he realized you were staring at nothing, seemingly lost in thought. “What?” 

“… You’re not gonna forget about me, are you? When you’re off to that fancy college in Red Grave, I mean.” You started, taking a sip of your iced coffee. The ice had melted, and you grimaced at the taste of water with a hint of sugar and coffee. “You’re, like, the only decent friend I have.”

“We are not friends.”

You would’ve been offended by that statement in any other situation, but there he was, two hours into his tutoring session on discourse analysis at a very busy and shitty coffee shop just so you wouldn’t fail the class. “Right. Best friends,” You corrected. “But I’m being serious, Vergil. You don’t even text me back, and we live half an hour away from each other.”

“I would if you had something interesting to say.”

“Dude, I know you like my memes, don’t pretend you don’t.” You popped the straw back in your mouth almost mechanically and, on a second thought, you left that mess back on the table. You failed to notice the smirk playing on his lips and, when you did, you rolled your eyes with a scoff. “I know this is super sappy and you hate when I get like this,” You said, turning in your chair to fully face him, “But I honestly don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. I’m so used to seeing your stupid face every day that-” 

You saw that coming, but you never imagined he was leaning over to kiss you. The smell of his cologne waffled over you as he pressed his lips on yours, effectively shutting you up. He pulled away before you even had the chance to process what had happened, leaving you dumbfounded and with your shoulders slumped.

“Are you done?” He looked so damn cocky, almost proud of himself before he shifted his focus back on the laptop right in front of him. “Now, the perlocutionary acts…”


	7. Responsible Teen Dad Vergil

Vergil had a pretty straight-forward plan: raise the Temen-ni-gru, gain his daddy’s power, profit; but he never expected some pesky fatherly love to get in the way. He refuses to say he stayed out of love because, for him, it was an innate sense of responsibly. He’d dealt with all the hell that stemmed from being alone and couldn’t bear the thought of his child suffering the same fate.

But no, that’s not love. At all. He feels nothing when he looks down at his son’s face. Nothing at all when he notices he’s his spitting image. Absolutely nothing when Nero looks up at him with doe-like eyes and babbles something incomprehensible with a smile.

Vergil doesn’t think he made a mistake by staying, although he does muse that it made things inevitably complicated. He knows nothing about how to take of a child. He hasn’t slept in weeks – not that he needs it, but Nero needs constant care and attention, and Vergil doesn’t have an endless pool of energy to take care of his son’s ever-changing needs. The exhaustion is almost unbearable. He believes he has stopped thinking logically, doing most things on autopilot. Nero rewards him with particularly loud wails when he does something wrong.

And Vergil can’t do it alone. The realization dawned on him nearly a month ago, but he refuses to ask for help until he almost makes a terrible mistake that forces him to do what he always does when things get too tough: he looks for Dante, because he knows that, even if his twin is a senseless imbecile, he would be willing to help, no questions asked.

Vergil shows up at his brother’s door with Nero in his arms. He doesn’t need to say anything; Dante knows what’s going on before Vergil even had a chance to knock. He could feel them both from a mile away.

Dante doesn’t ask why, when, or who. He just mutters a very pointed “shit” and thinks about all the junk he has to take out of the guest room so Verge and the little punk can be comfortable there. Thinks of how to baby proof the house. Takes a look at the stuff Vergil’s carrying and tries to think of where they can get a crib at that time at night. Tries to force Vergil to get some rest while he takes care of the little tyke –Nero squirms in his arms, but Dante does his best to try to keep him entertained, eyes darting to Vergil’s tired form walking up the stairs. 

Dante has met the kid for a grand total of five minutes and he already knows he would give his life for him.

Dante’s breath smells like whiskey and regret, and he balances the kid in one arm to squirt a handful of toothpaste in his mouth. The hunter swallows it for good measure. Kid’s way too young to know Dante's been drinking the night away.

Vergil thanks him the next day. Dante can’t remember the last time he heard those words coming out of his twin’s mouth. He doesn’t make a fuss about it. Neither does Verge. 

Vergil’s a dad. Dante’s an uncle. Funny how things go. It’s something unexpected and frightening. Dante doesn’t pretend he knows what he’s doing. Vergil doesn’t know what he’s doing, either. But they can work it out. They always do. And maybe Nero’s giving them a chance to start anew and be an actual functional family after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't really a request, but rather some shameless propaganda about why I love responsible teen dad Vergil so much.
> 
> I might expand this drabble for Dadgil week, but no promises on that front, lol.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Another credit card?!

The newest addition to Devil May Cry was a busted mail box that Dante had gotten just so Vergil could stop whining about all the bills that the mailman slid under the small space under the doors and that seemingly 'polluted' the shop's entrance. 

Nero always made sure to check if there was anything there when he came over just in case he saw a late bill that the twins had to pay in the very near future -you'd be surprised at how many times he'd found just that because Dante couldn't be bothered to check that thing every day and Vergil simply refused to do it, claiming the task was “his little brother's responsibility”. His fingers closed in on a lone letter sitting there and he fished it out, scoffing when he saw the name and logo of a shady bank on the front.

“Seriously, old man? Another credit card?!” Nero said, staring in disbelief at his uncle before he tossed it on the desk. 

“What? I need to pay the one I got a couple of weeks ago.” The devil hunter explained with a careless grin as he dropped the magazine he was reading and ripped the letter open unceremoniously, pulling out a shinny white and red card and picking off the excess glue that had gotten stuck on the back.

The phone was on his ear in a blur, and he simply held one of his hands up when he saw Nero open his mouth to protest about his shitty finances, putting the kid's scold on hold as the agent on the other end of the line began her long and scripted spiel that Dante definitely wasn't paying any attention to.

Nero merely shook his head and opted to plop down on the couch, pulling out his phone to text Kyrie. He stopped typing when he heard Dante refer to himself as 'Tony', still finding it hard to comprehend why the hell the old man had two identities. The legendary devil hunter was Tony Redgrave, a guy with a perfect credit score thanks to Morrison, and Dante Sparda, an old sap without a penny to his name. It was still unclear when he started abusing the system by pretending he was two drastically different people -and it was a miracle no one had caught him red handed just yet.

Dante got off the phone in what seemed like forever, letting it down with a satisfied thump. He didn't need to see the kid's face to know he had an annoyed scowl plastered on his face, one that made him look a little too much like Verge.

“What the hell did you buy with the other one?” Nero questioned, knowing Dante's awful track record when it came to money. Dante and credit cards shouldn't even be in the same sentence if the old man wanted to keep the building to his name. It seemed a tad too excessive to get a whole ass different card to pay his debts, so whatever he got had better be worth it.

“A coat.”

“A coat?”

Dante stood up, brushing some imaginary dust off the red coat he was wearing. It certainly looked nice and expensive-ish, perhaps worth a couple hundred if Nero was being generous.

“How much?”

Dante hummed as he sat down, seemingly trying to recall a number that he most definitely knew by heart. “Around 8 thousand.”

“You paid 8k for a damn coat?”

“Hey, it's not any coat! It's pure leather imported all the way from Italy.”

Nero simply stared, deadpanning as his brain processed the sheer absurdity of it all. “At least you didn't spend all that money on fucking pizza.”

“Nah, of course not.” Dante agreed. “The pizza bill was only 2k.”


	9. If that makes me a child, so be it

Vergil's footsteps were almost soundless, and Nero was certain that he would've never known the old man was prowling around the house if he hadn't opened the fridge. The young hunter looked up from his spot at the table, phone in hand and the taste of spoiled milk still on his tongue -he'd tried to make an iced latte with the stuff that was lying around and, unfortunately, skipped the very important step of sniffing the carton to see if the damn thing was still good.

He'd seen Vergil do his fair share of odd shit for quite some time, but watching his old man pulling out a bag of frozen vegetables out of the freezer was something that made him frown, especially since he knew Vergil didn't cook for shit -or at least that was what Dante'd told him. “What are you doing?”

Nero was almost expecting Vergil to reach inside and pop a handful of frozen peas in his mouth because he was _that_ weird, but his pops simply opened the bag and pulled out a pair of inconspicuous looking white rectangles out of it, offering one to Nero. “Dante mustn't know about this.”

Nero accepted it with a grin and immediately peeled it open, revealing a chocolate ice cream sandwich in all its glory. He took a hefty bite out of the sweet treat and could tell right away that those were the expensive ones that actually tasted like something other than sugar. “You hiding food like little kids now?”

“If that makes me a child, so be it.” Vergil retorted, taking a seat in front of him. “Dante has no self control and refuses to honor our agreement.”

“You have an agreement for food?”

“Not precisely for food,” Vergil explained, peeling off his sandwich with almost too much care, refusing to get even a smudge of chocolate on his fingers. “We used to write our names on our possessions so they could truly belong to us. I foolishly believed we were past that menial task, but reinstated it once Dante began to take what was mine.” He took a small bite of the sandwich, and grabbed a napkin to wipe the invisible traces of chocolate off his lips. “Needless to say, he ignored it.”

“Okay, so now you are hiding things from him.”

“Precisely.”

“Petty,” Nero quipped, “But he ate a muffin I left in the fridge the other day, so my lips are sealed.”

Vergil simply smirked.


	10. We could get struck by lightning, but you want to kiss in the rain

The rain kept falling steadily around you, and a small chuckle left your lips once you realized just how miserable Vergil looked, his cat-like nature shinning through as he slicked back his hair for what seemed like the hundred time that evening to keep it from falling limp over his eyes.

Neither of you expected any rain during your little outing, but you decided to try to make the best out of it, even if Vergil didn't seem as thrilled with the idea as you were. Still, he took your hand and let you guide him through the crowded streets, ignoring how the rain seemed to soak you both to the bone.

There was a certain spot you wanted to take him, somewhere quiet that overlooked the city. It was one of your hometown's hidden gems, one that you loved to visit when you wanted to clear your head. You smiled once you arrived, letting go of his hand to eagerly lean against the railing, taking in the view. The city was a grayscale painting of darkened buildings and streetlights, the clouds making it look like it was shrouded in fog.

“This is vaguely romantic, isn't it?”

Vergil scoffed as he joined you, arms crossed against his chest. The rain kept streaking down his face, small droplets of it getting stuck on his eyelashes before they trickled down. Still, he looked as handsome as ever, almost ethereal against the dull colors that surrounded you. “I wouldn't describe it as 'romantic'.”

“It could be,” You retorted, scooting closer to his body as you shivered. “I've always wanted to kiss under the rain.”

“Is that so?”

You didn't even need to look at him to know he was smirking. Sure, it was sappy, and ridiculous, and you definitely saw it once or twice in a movie and wanted to try it out, but it would be a nice way to end the night, wouldn't it?

“Yup.”

A flash of light lit up the sky in the distance, followed by the roaring sound of thunder that echoed through the streets.

“We could get struck by lightning,” Vergil started, watching as yet another flash briefly illuminated the city below. “But you want to kiss in the rain.”

“Exactly.”

“We could've done so outside your apartment.”

“Where's the fun in that?” You playfully replied. “Plus, this is an elaborate scheme to seduce you. Feeling seduced yet?”

He cupped your face with his hand and leaned forward, his lips slowly brushing against yours in an achingly sweet kiss. You couldn't help but look at him with adoration when he pulled away, a triumphant little smile playing on your lips.

“No.” 


End file.
